The Uncharted Tales

Chapter 6

Part 1: From Small Beginnings

Victor Sullivan

Gradually, over the span of the next six days, they were able to fall into a sense of a pattern. Sam wasn't particularly cold towards to him, but their late-night confessions to each other from their first night in Tampa still lingered between them. Three was a crowd and one of them was going to get pushed out.

For now, they were mostly amicable.

For the time being, life with the boys was working out and Sully was rearing for the next paying job. He already had a few offers, three being people he worked with before. Charlie Cutter, a younger man he had known for some time, was one of them. In fact, the more he thought about it, he realized that was someone he should introduce to the Drake brothers. Cutter was a man Sully saw as a friend and his historical knowledge was about as extensive as Nate and Sam's, if not more so.

Unfortunately, Cutter was working for a family by the name of Adler. Sully knew them mostly by word of mouth. Even for his low standards, he had no interest in getting involved with their business and he promptly warned Cutter of their dubious nature during their brief phone call. If he had any sense, he would stay well away from Adler money.

He spent most of the night getting into contact with people that would mostly be reasonable having one professional smuggler and two amateurs involved instead of just the usual one, and in the following morning, Sully couldn't help but notice he heard movement out in the main room. What in the hell...?

After getting ready for the day, he came out to find quite a mess. The brothers had clearly attempted to make breakfast, but in their wake, they left a hazardous wreckage behind. Pans were left un-scraped, and their plates were stacked precariously by the sink. At least they had the decency to leave him some leftovers...

The dining table was in no better state – scraps of paper littered the surface, and pens and pencils were scattered about. He wouldn't be eating at the table, then.

"Your turn to do the dishes," Nate told him with a wry grin when they finally took notice of his presence.

"What about Sam?"

"I made coffee."

Sure enough, when Sully looked, the pot was almost half full. "You two are a pair of geniuses," He grumbled as he got to work on cleaning up their mess. This was obviously revenge, because for what they made – eggs, bacon, and toast – it shouldn't have been this much of a mess. Tag-team effort, that's what this is.

As Sully got to work, he heard the screen door close and when he glanced back over his shoulder, he realized Sam must have gone out for a smoke break with Nate tailing after him, that wretched white journal clutched to his chest. Sully was going to have to find a way to keep the kid occupied for a bit. Sam was fairly tolerant, but the tiredness crinkling the corners of his eyes was a good enough indicator that Sam needed some time to himself. He still needed a chance to recover without constantly being pestered by his younger brother.

Drying his hands, Sully came over to the table and looked over what they'd apparently been working on. Goddamned writing was either in Latin or Sixteenth Century Spanish, and whatever was written in English was nothing but gibberish to him, so the amount he was able to translate before he heard the Drake brothers' voices drawing closer was minimal at best. They were planning something, and it might involve Sir Francis Drake. He wasn't entirely sure.

Just before they came back inside, Sully settled himself on the couch to finally start on his breakfast. Upon entering, Sam paused as he looked at Sully, then slowly shifted his gaze on the papers.